


Ain't Easy Being Me

by darkforetold



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon Dean Winchester, Jealous Castiel, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 03:56:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1764635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkforetold/pseuds/darkforetold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam seems to be taking the whole demon thing surprisingly well. Cas... not so much. </p><p>(This is a sad tale of a charming, sexy demon being abused by a stupid, jerk angel.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ain't Easy Being Me

**Author's Note:**

> Post 9x23.

The road stretched for miles ahead of them. He had his tunes, his brother, and his best friend with him. They were headed to a case and the car smelled like fast-food burgers and fries. For the first time in a long time, he felt... _good_. Normal. Like everything would be okay.

Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel to AC/DC's _Highway to Hell_. Sam stared out the passenger side window and Cas sat in the back seat, frowning like he usually did. They were all getting along. Weirdly enough, Sam and Cas didn't seem to mind he was a demon, prone to random killing sprees, and unable to eat anything salty. Dean expected Cas to smite him, but he didn't. Sam hadn't tried to drink his blood. It was all... too easy. 

He expected the other shoe to drop, and when he sneezed for the first time, it did. 

"Bless you," Sam said.

Nausea hit him hard. He lost control of the car and it shot side to side like a steel ball in a pin ball machine. Sam yelped and held on for dear life. Cas just grunted and frowned even more. When Dean straightened the car out, he was left breathing heavily, sweat pouring from his forehead. The hairs on his whole body stood on-end as if he'd been electrocuted. More importantly, he fucking hurt. Bad.

"Dude, what the fuck?" Dean hissed. "Don't... _do_ that."

"Do _what_?"

"The thing. Don't do the thing."

Sam, still frazzled, growled out, "What _thing_?"

"The... _thing_ , after I sneezed. Don't do that."

Sam narrowed his eyes, then the light bulb clicked on. "Oh. That thing." Sam tightened his jaw and looked out the window. "Sorry. I forgot."

"Yeah, okay. No problem."

They rode in silence for what seemed like forever. Sam was frowning and so was Cas. Guns N'Roses' _Knockin' on Heaven's Door_ didn't help calm anyone's nerves and certainly didn't help—

Dean sneezed again.

He tensed. No one moved. Sam looked at him, but didn't say a word. Minutes ticked by. Just when he thought the coast was clear, the backseat's leather groaned. Cas leaned forward. His neck prickled with Cas' breath. Dean took in a lungful of air and held it.

"Bless you."

Dean yanked on the wheel and pulled the car over, flung open the door, and threw up on the pavement. Again. A third time. He heaved and sucked in stale air, wiping a sleeve across his mouth. When he looked up, he caught Cas smiling in the side view mirror.

It was the first indication Cas had a problem.

:::

From then on, Dean kept an eye on Cas like a hawk would while tracking a mouse. After a few days of nothing—no blessing incidents, no devil's traps, no nothing—Dean let his guard down. It was his first and last mistake.

The three of them sat in a local diner, weary from the road and pissed off. Each of them stared at the table blankly. No one said a word. The case had been a bust. They hadn't made it in time. Blood and bodies had been everywhere. The only thing that could make it remotely better was a hot plate of greasy food. A big steak, loaded baked potato, and—

"What can I get you, boys?"

Dean looked up. His mouth fell open. Their waitress... She was gorgeous. Like, holy fuck gorgeous. Fresh from a magazine, her hair was long and dark, wispy and curled at the ends. The type of hair he loved to run his fingers through, nuzzle in and whisper sweet nothings after a long night of mind-blowing sex. Her bright smile made him hard, her blue eyes were something he could get lost in forever. Full lips, pretty face—perfect tits and ass. Dean didn't know he’d stopped breathing.

"I'll have a cobb salad and a water, please," Sam said.

"I'm not hungry," Cas answered with murder in his voice.

When her blue eyes fell on him, he almost had a heart attack. She smiled at him and he practically melted. 

_Get a hold of yourself. You're a demon, for crap's sake. Play it cool._

Dean leaned back in his chair, suave-like, like James-fucking-Bond, and smiled back. "Did it... hurt when you fell from Heaven? Because you sure look like an angel to me."

Julia—said so on her name tag—smiled behind her pad of paper. The kind of shy smile that told him his line had worked, that Julia didn't usually get compliments from strange men—which was fucking insane because she was hotter than Hell and he would know. 

"Name's Dean," he said.

"Hi, Dean," she said quietly. "Julia."

Dean pointed to her name tag. “Figured as much."

She looked down at her name tag and blushed. It was adorable. Flustered, she cleared her throat. "Is there... is there something you'd like, Dean?"

Dean grinned. Yes, he'd like her, on this table, right now. "I'll just have a burger with extra onions and fries. No salt." He rubbed his belly. "Salt's bad for my health." He winked.

Julia bit her bottom lip to keep from smiling. Sexy as fuck. "I'll get that right out for you." She turned, threw a smile over her shoulder at him, and walked away. Hips swinging like she knew she was getting some tonight.

" _Really_ , Dean?"

Dean looked at Sam. "What?"

Sam rolled his eyes and turned to his phone.

When he glanced at Cas, he was one-hundred percent sure someone was going to die tonight. Cas had that look about him, the smite-y, righteous look he usually got right before he burned a demon out of its body. 

“What are you looking at?” Dean snapped. Cas’ upper lip curled in disgust. "No, you can't have any of my fries." Because Cas _always_ wanted to eat his goddamn fries.

Cas narrowed his eyes to thin slits. "I don't want your fries, _Dean_."

"Okay, _Cas_."

"Would you two knock it off?"

The three of them sighed simultaneously and waited in silence. Sam was tapping away on his phone, researching or some shit with his miraculous wi-fi. Cas stared at him and wouldn't stop. Not the lovey-dovey staring, but the evil eye-fucking that preempted mayhem and the Apocalypse. It was annoying.

"Stop staring at me."

" _No_."

Oh, it was on.

As soon as Julia came back with their food, Dean turned up the dial on his flirting, from his usual to _let's fuck right now_. She served them their plates—Sam's stupid salad and his hamburger with extra onions—then caught his eye. He wiggled a finger for her to come closer. She did.

"When do you get off?"

Another one of Julia's award-winning shy smiles. "In thirty minutes."

"Thirty minutes, huh?" Dean floored her with a wink. "Do you want to... you know—get some coffee after your shift? Maybe... see what happens?"

Her wide grin said yes and her nod sealed the deal. Speechless, all Julia could do was smile again, giggle, and walk away quickly, disappearing around the corner. A hoard of female co-workers probably waited for her there and they’d all whisper about how _cool_ and _hot_ he was. Being a demon was _awesome_.

Sam made a noise of disgust beside him. Cas... he could _feel_ those hateful eyes without even looking. Dean picked up a saltless fry, bit it, and chewed obnoxiously just to be an asshole and because he knew Cas hated it. Cas' face went from decidedly angry to virtually expressionless. The angel leaned back in his chair, then looked at the salt and pepper shakers. Dean looked, too. Their eyes met in a war-of-the-ages type of way, angel against demon. Heaven versus Hell.

Dean dared him with a _fuck you_ smile.

What happened next was too quick for him to follow. Cas unscrewed the salt shaker and dumped the entire thing.... on his _food_ , then smiled, before Dean could do shit about it.

Rage, beyond anything he could control, bubbled up inside of him. His eyes flashed all-black—he knew because he felt like a bad ass every time it happened—and snarled. He was up on his feet, turning the table over before he knew it. There were startled gasps. A scream. Cas in his face, blue eyes with a searing light behind them. The dark silhouettes of his wings painted the wall behind him. Someone was going to fucking die.

"Goddamnit, you two!" Sam hissed, getting in between them. "That's enough!"

Oh, no. Quite the opposite, actually. 

It was just the beginning.

:::

They hadn't taken a case in a few days because, according to Sam, he and Cas were a "dangerous liability" with the constant bickering and fighting. Whatever. Tensions were running high. All three of them were bored, which meant more fighting, especially between demon and angel. If Cas wasn't giving him the holy stink eye, Dean was finding little ways to annoy the fuck out of him. Eventually, Sam stayed locked in his room to avoid the hateful glares and snide remarks—which left Cas unprotected most of the time.

After an early lunch, Cas plopped himself down in front of the TV to watch a documentary about bees on the Discovery channel. It was the little things that made him giddy these days. He didn't need to behead anyone to make him feel like a million bucks. Just fucking with Cas was good enough.

He walked in as cool as can be and poured himself into the couch, on the opposite end—just in case. Cas didn't bother looking at him which was fine with him. He didn't care. With a tiny smile, Dean reached for the remote and changed the channel, right in the middle of Cas' stupid documentary. Soon enough, he felt Cas' eyes burn into the side of his face. Dean lulled his head, eyes as black as pitch, and tossed him a shit-eating grin. Cas sighed heavily as if his very presence was sucking away his will to live. Still smiling, completely satisfied with himself, Dean turned to watch the TV.

Then, it happened.

" _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus…_ "

The words sizzled his skin like a first-degree burn might, leaving him slightly aroused because he liked pain, but mostly nauseous because he was a _demon_ and the words were _bad for his fucking health_. 

Dean grit his teeth. "Oh, I love it when you talk exorcism to me, Cas."

Except he didn't—

"... _omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii_..."

—because it hurt bad.

"... _omnis congregatio et secta diabolica_."

Really fucking bad.

" _Ergo draco maledicte_ —"

It fried him from the inside out, searing his nerves, scorching his brain. Self-preservation kicked in and he jumped up, off the couch and fled the room, hissing and cursing the whole way.

The last thing he heard was some bullshit about bees on the Discovery channel.

:::

The few times Sam dared to come out of his room were perfect opportunities to show off—and irritate Cas at the same time, often to disastrous results.

From the doorway, expertly concealed, Dean peeked into library. Cas sat at one of the tables, reading a book, no doubt titled _10 Ways to Resist Killing Your Demon Ex-Boyfriend_. Because after the blessing, salt, and attempted exorcism, they certainly were not _together anymore_. Sam stood beside him, none-too-impressed, probably in full realization that shit was _about to go down_. 

Dean elbowed his ribs. "Watch this."

With the flick of a finger, Cas' book flew across the room. Sam said something, but he didn't hear it, too focused on how Cas stood up and turned his head as if everything was moving in ultra-slow motion—the stuff in movies that made explosions look extra-fucking-cool. With Cas as rigid as he was, eyes narrowed, jaw tight, he was definitely about to explode. 

With a few more finger flicks, Cas' pants and underwear fell to his ankles. Sam squawked. Dean grinned, his eyes in full-on bad ass mode—blacker than tar and sin. 

When Dean was stupid enough to blink, Cas was gone.

The sound of wings behind him made him whirl on his heel. Cas was there, frowning, pissed off. A flash of silver-metal something, liquid, then burning—the holy water melted his face off and he screamed. Cas flew away on the beat of angry wings. 

Sam sighed.

:::

Okay. No more Mr. Nice Demon.

He checked everywhere for devil's traps before creeping into Cas' room. Cas was nowhere to be found. Grinning to himself, Dean pulled out a pocket knife and sliced his hand open. Blood splattered to the floor. With two fingers, he painted a banishing sigil behind the door, stepped back, and admired his work. For everything Cas had done to him in the past couple of days, this was what he deserved: a first-class ticket to wherever it was angels went when they got banished. Cas would be back. He'd be okay. No harm, no foul.

He froze when he heard footsteps down the hall, ones that could only belong to Cas. The angel had a graceful, almost too-quiet way of moving around. Like a holy ninja on steroids. Also, Sam was fast asleep, snoring as loud as could be, so it couldn't be him. 

The footsteps stopped suddenly. Dean held his breath and waited. With his angel-y sense, Cas could probably detect him miles away. The inherent demon evilness practically seeped out of his pores. Plus, the air crackled with electricity when they got a few feet from each other, which was both really fucking hot and slightly disturbing. His skin prickled with that trippy energy as he stood there, waiting, willing his hard dick down to half-mast. 

On the other side of the wall, there was only silence. Then—

His body zipped with an electrical surge. Instinct drove him to reach for the sigil. Cas appeared in front of him and grabbed his wrist faster than lightning struck. They stared at each other, all-black eyes into holy-bright blue ones. Angel and demon squaring off. The good, noble hero against the sexy, smoldering— 

Cas pushed him and he fell back onto the bed, splayed and angry. With a growl, Dean crawled to the edge of the bed and stopped. Not because he wanted to stop, but because he couldn't move any further. Something was keeping him in place. Something—

"Where is it?" Dean hissed.

"Under the mattress," Cas said plainly.

Fucking devil's trap. 

Cas had him right where he wanted him. And if the small smile on his face was any indication... Cas closed the door behind him and locked it, then started to remove his trenchcoat. Slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. Dean knew where this was going and so did his dick. It popped up like an eager, traitorous bastard, harder than a steel pole. He couldn't do anything else but watch and lick his lips.

The jacket came off next. Cas stared at him like a lion eyeing a giant, juicy steak, tracking him like the calm, cool, bad ass motherfucker he was. He slipped off the tie easily, nice and slow, as if he were a stripper at a club. Hottest fucking thing he'd ever seen. If he didn't want Cas to win, he'd start jacking off right then and there. Instead, he played hard to get. Disinterested. Bored.

"What makes you think I want anything to do with you?"

Cas smiled like he knew a secret, like he knew he couldn't say no to his dick—and he was right. There'd be no denying it: he wanted his angel spread beneath him, begging to be fucked. Making Cas break, leaving him wet and panting, was everything he wanted right now. 

"I'm going to fuck you ‘til it hurts."

That didn't get any verbal response. Just a smirk. If Cas was remotely turned on, he didn't show it. He simply started unbuttoning his white dress shirt, one by one, slow and painful. Each one undone exposing more and more skin. His collarbones, the delicate flutter of his pulse point. His chest—

Dean tore his own clothes off in record time, throwing them every which way. His shirt ended up on the lampshade, his pants like the lower half of a dead man on the floor. When Cas finally breached the devil's trap, naked, Dean grabbed him. Their skin sparked and crackled on contact. It was a war between Heaven and Hell everywhere they touched. It hurt when they kissed, but he didn't care. Nothing felt more right, more incredible, than being wrapped up in him—Heaven and Hell, God and the Devil be damned. 

He made quick work of lubing himself up. Oddly obedient, Cas lay on his back, thighs spread, welcoming him. There was a dangerous spark in those blue eyes, like he was a lit stick of dynamite and Dean was the intended casualty. He decided to take the risk. Demons loved danger.

Dean pushed in without so much as a kiss or a touch. Something leveled him, yanking the breath out of his body. It was hot and intense as fuck, with more energy than a bolt of lightning. If forcing the polar opposites of two magnets together felt like something, this was it: a lot of work, painful, and incredibly satisfying. 

Cas arched his back with a groan as he drilled him. The sound bordered on pain, equally fucked up on pleasure. Encouraged, Dean slammed into him over and over again, and Cas took every thrust with a grimace, a moan, or panting, mouth hanging open and breathing heavy like an overheated dog. The friction, his warmth, the electric current racing down his body... . . Cas groaned again and grabbed his forearms, holding on. The headboard thumped against the wall. His skin seared, his insides began to burn and melt—

It was agonizing. It felt good.... it...

"Cas," he croaked.

All he could see was bright light. Horrible, scary-as-fuck bright light. It was streaming out of his eyes, scalding his throat—Cas was killing him, frying him from the inside out.

Dean jerked back and scrambled away from him. His back slammed against the invisible barrier of the devil's trap. Cas... he sat up with an unsettling look on his face. Calm, none-too-concerned, like he knew what he was doing. Dean considered calling for Sam, for help, but... nah, he'd rather die than have his brother see him like this—naked, pathetic, and at the mercy of a righteous angel. 

Cas reached for him—Dean closed his eyes. This was it. It was all over. Couple weeks as a demon was all he had. No more black eyes. No more telekinetic superhero powers. Just a dead, burned-out husk of—

His world tipped on its axis. His face burned against the mattress, nearly rubbed raw, and his ass was up—Dean yelled out as Cas speared him with his hard cock. A shockwave of energy slammed into him. It was pain all over again. Glorious, beautiful fucking pain, something he'd grown to love and need, like an addict chasing a drug. He took every inch of Cas over and over again, his groans louder each time. The bed smacked against the wall. He grabbed onto the mattress, his face buried so far into it, he could almost see the floor on the other side. Everything hurt, his insides were still smoking, but he came anyway. Came so hard he almost cured himself of his demoness. 

Cas rammed him a few more times before coming too, then he was gone. When he looked up, Cas was at the end of the bed fully clothed as if nothing had happened.

"What? No cuddling?"

All-black eyes, mischievous grin wide and charming—or not. Cas ignored him and moved toward the door.

"You just going to leave me here?"

Cas stopped and looked over his shoulder. Those hungry, blue eyes raked over his naked body.

"Yes."

The door slammed shut, leaving him in the blackness of the room, trapped on a bed he couldn't get out of. Dean sighed dramatically.

He’d changed his mind. Being a demon sucked.


End file.
